


Starbuggers

by kronette



Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Explicit Sexual Content, Implied or Off-stage Rape/Non-con, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-31
Updated: 2013-04-11
Packaged: 2017-12-07 01:12:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/742378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kronette/pseuds/kronette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not quite the Boys from the Dwarf you know; Lister and Rimmer are strippers in a club called "Starbuggers." The chapters are short and sweet, but our lads definitely aren't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Starbuggers

**Author's Note:**

> I forgot to thank VeronicaRich for inspiration, general help and the occasional grammar smack upside the head.

Lister wiped the sweat from his face with the towel the stagehand held out to him. "Thanks, Hol," he called out as he headed back to the dressing rooms. He nodded to the other dancers, flashing a grin to those he genuinely liked. Most of the lads were all right; they were trying to make extra money for university or to support their families. A few nutters took their dancing seriously, like they'd be cast in the next revival of _West Side Story_ from a skin joint called "Starbuggers." 

Lister enjoyed dancing and it kept him in shape, plus it thickened his wallet like no other job he'd had, and he'd had plenty. From bank teller to barkeep to car park attendant, no one tipped like those ogling nearly-naked men gyrating for their pleasure. He may not be as bulked up as some of the other guys, but he was well-endowed, fit and could dance, a combination the owner, Todhunter, had taken an instant liking-to. 

Throwing the towel into the laundry basket, Lister piled his clothing onto the dressing table and started to empty his g-string. Not bad – a handful of fivers and a few dozen singles, plus the dollarpound he'd found caught in his dreads somehow. The notes and business cards he tossed in the bin, always choosing to keep his business strictly on the dance floor. He knew some of the lads supplemented their income with lap dances and other extras, but he had no desire to be paid for sex. As crazy as it was, he still believed in flirting and chasing someone to sleep with. Having a card dropped into your lap was hardly a challenge. As he pulled on his robe, he heard someone yell, "New music, eh, Rimmer?" drawing his attention. 

The new guy, Rimmer, had gone on stage just after Lister. Lister wasn't one to get into competitions over conquests or dick size, but Rimmer seemed to enjoy baiting the other lads. 

"Just keeping things fresh," Rimmer retorted in his nasal accent, growing louder as he approached the dressing room. "Wouldn't want to disappoint the crowd with the same old routine." 

Lister had spoken to Rimmer enough to know that he wasn't as posh as he let on; that it was part of his act. 

As if reading his mind, Rimmer's smug expression transformed into a scowl and he muttered, "Git," under his breath. 

Lister watched in bemusement as Rimmer scrubbed at his chest with a towel, trying to remove the body glitter. "I told you that wasn't a good idea," Lister teased him as Rimmer's scowl deepened. 

"Shut it, Lister," Rimmer said. "The tube said it would come off with brisk rubbing." 

Trying to help out his new friend while not smirking, Lister added gently, "I think it meant with soap and water, not a sweat-soaked towel. You're going to start losing skin, guy." 

Rimmer frowned and peered at his chest in the mirror, cursing at the reddened marks. "Maybe you're right." He sighed and tossed the towel toward the basket, and missed. "Smeg!" 

Lister struggled not to laugh, but he felt his cheeks pushing upward in a grin. "Come on, Rimmer. Let's get cleaned up and I'll buy you dinner. Looks like you could use it." 

With a weary sigh, Rimmer shook his head. "Can't. I've got another show in an hour." 

Lister stared at him open-mouthed. "What?" 

Despite the exhaustion he could see on Rimmer's face, he detected the faint trace of a blush. "Frank has me filling in for Selby. His kid's sick and he couldn't find a babysitter." 

Rimmer was still new enough at the club that the novelty hadn't worn off, but they both knew crowds liked fresh meat. Seeing the same body six times in one night was a death sentence for a dancer, not to mention exhausting. "But it'll be the same crowd, Rimmer. What are you planning to do?" 

Rimmer's green eyes were dark with worry. "I don't know, Lister. I have some old routines I could do with new music, but there's no time to rehearse." He shrugged. "I'll have to wing it." 

Lister gave his arm a friendly squeeze. "Hold tight, man. Maybe wear a mask or something so they can't recognize you." 

Rimmer quirked an eyebrow and they both burst into laughter. Their faces were usually the last thing the crowd remembered about them. 

"Well, maybe you could not tie off?" Lister offered gently. He knew some of the guys did it, but it was like Fight Club; you didn't talk about it. 

Rimmer's brow creased in a frown. "What are you talking about?" 

Lister made a vague gesture toward Rimmer's groin. "You know, not pump up so much before going on stage?" 

Rimmer's frown deepened. "I don’t pump up, Lister." To prove his point, Rimmer hooked his thumbs into the sides of his g-string and pulled down, showing Lister that yes, he definitely didn't tie off. 

Lister felt his face get hot and found he was unable to meet Rimmer's gaze. "I, uh, I didn't mean to offend you or anything; I know some guys like the added length. I'll see you Thursday night, yeah?" 

Before Rimmer could answer, Lister backed away and headed straight for the shower, unnerved. He may not care if he danced for men or women, but for his personal life, he usually preferred women. Since working at mixed clubs, he'd gotten used to propositions from guys, but it'd been awhile since he'd been genuinely attracted to a man. Now he found himself not only attracted to a man, it had to go and be one that he worked with. He had a steadfast rule: no fraternizing with anyone where he worked. That rule had kept him from heartache with Haley Summers, who had slept her way through everyone at the bank except him.

He turned the water slightly cool and stepped beneath the spray, scattering his thoughts like water droplets.


	2. G-String Theory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We have plot development in this chapter. The lads get closer when Rimmer reveals something happened to him on his double shift and things progress quickly from there. Lister watches Rimmer dance for the first time. Oh, and I reveal Lister and Rimmer's stage names. *wink*
> 
> Song queue: [Hungry Like the Wolf by Duran Duran](http://youtu.be/oOg5VxrRTi0).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: I had to go back and add a warning about implied or off-stage rape/non-con to the full story, because I didn't know I couldn't mark just a chapter. It's only talked about after the fact, for those who have sensitivity.

Thursday found Rimmer hunched over the bar, rubbing his temple.

Lister's nervousness at seeing Rimmer again vanished as he saw the slight tremor to Rimmer's hand as he knocked back a drink.

"You okay?" He settled next to Rimmer and took in the other man's haggard appearance. It was clear something was bothering Rimmer; his hair looked like he'd run his hands through it repeatedly and he had a few days' worth of stubble darkening his cheeks. Lister had never seen him look so rough.

Rimmer shook his head and said quietly, "I can't go home, but I don't have anywhere else to go."

Alarms went off inside Lister's head. He'd had a persistent guy follow him around for a few days before Baxter, Todhunter's bouncer, gave him orders to stay away from Lister and the club. "When did it start?" he asked gently, not sure if Rimmer wanted to talk about it, but talking had helped him understand it wasn't anything he did; some people were just nutters.

Rimmer toyed with the now-empty glass. "Monday, after I did the double shift. A woman came up to me afterward and gave my arse a squeeze. She wouldn't let go, not even after a gentle tug, so I flagged over Baxter. I hated to do it, but nothing I said seemed to get through to her. Baxter explained the rules to her and she seemed to be genuinely contrite. She offered to buy me a drink in apology. I should have said no, but I was tired and not thinking clearly. I don't remember a damn thing after that until I woke up in Frank's office. Baxter told me that when he discovered us, the woman had her hand down my pants, rubbing me off, and I seemed completely oblivious to it all. He threw her out right then and secured me in Frank's office to sleep it off. Both he and Frank assumed I'd been drugged. The next night, she was waiting for me across the street, so I slept in the back. Last night, Baxter called me back to the club after seeing her trail me from halfway down the street."

Lister's hand tightened over Rimmer's; he didn't know when he'd placed it there. "Smeg, I'm sorry. But you know better than to accept drinks from the customers," he chastised gently.

Rimmer stared at the top of the bar, his mouth turned down in disgust. "I do know better. But as I said, I was exhausted and not feeling myself. Maybe there was a part of me that wanted company that night."

"Whoa, hey," Lister said sharply, turning Rimmer to face him. Rimmer's eyes were bloodshot and a murky brown, with no life behind them. "Wanting company and being forced into something are two different things. She was wrong; simple as that. If you wanted company, all you had to do was ask."

Lister felt his stomach churn wildly as Rimmer's eyes snapped to his, now bright and shining with life. "Was that an offer, Lister?" he asked with a trace of hope.

Heart thudding hard in his chest, Lister fumbled, "I meant - if you need a place to crash, I've got a spare room."

It was clear that Rimmer was interested in more than the room, as Lister watched him fail to hide his disappointment. "I appreciate it, but I feel safer sleeping in Frank's office."

In truth, Lister was interested in more than his spare room, too. It took everything in him not to kiss the disappointment off Rimmer's face. He carefully removed his hand, swallowing hard at the soft, frustrated sigh that escaped from between Rimmer's lips.

Lister tried to keep it light, but there was no denying the weight behind his next words: "When your back starts to hurt from the broken spring, you're welcome to stay at mine."

Rimmer appraised him with a shrewd look. "Sounds like you've slept there yourself a few times."

Lister shrugged but met Rimmer's gaze steadily. "I know what it's like."

Rimmer studied him for a long moment, then gave a nod as he slid off the bar stool. "I'm going to try to get some sleep. Can you tell Frank I'm in the office, and to make sure I'm up in time for my shift?"

Lister smiled. "Sure thing. Oi," he called as Rimmer turned away. "If you want to talk some more, I've got two ears at the ready."

A half-smile flitted across Rimmer's lips. "Thanks, Listy."

A warmth that had nothing whatsoever to do with that smile or the nickname curled Lister's stomach. Nothing whatsoever to do with Rimmer's pert backside as he walked to the back. Nothing whatsoever to do with the shimmy he put in his hips as he walked away from Lister…

Smeg. Lister was in trouble.

=-=-=-=

"You're off your grandma's rocker, Rimmer," Lister scoffed as he rubbed baby oil onto his legs. "Absolutely barmy."

"I know it's unconventional, but it would be a draw," Rimmer prodded as he inspected his handiwork in the mirror. Lister had rolled his eyes at Rimmer's insistence of going 'exotic' and painting himself with utterly non-tribal tribal marks, but somehow, Rimmer was making it work for him.

"Two guys dancing on stage together isn't a draw," Lister continued to scoff as he worked oil up his arms. "Ever hear of 'A Chorus Line'? A whole stage full of blokes going full monty, and even _that_ isn't much of a draw nowadays."

His arm was grasped and he was spun around, startled at he gazed up at Rimmer's expression. It was feral, full of the hunger that had been building between them for months. After Lister's offer of his spare bedroom, they'd become close, sharing meals and working out at the gym together. They opened up and shared their lives, their dreams and their far-off wishes. Their fond teasing took on deeper levels, and even the other dancers began to notice their almost hypnotic pull towards each other.

Lister had never felt attraction as all-consuming as what he felt for Rimmer. It frightened him, more than being stalked, more than being on stage the first time, more than the last time he'd fallen in love. This was something new and he didn't know if it would destroy him or elevate him to a whole new level of existing.

His gaze dropped to Rimmer's lips, which were parted and shining. His breath hitched as Rimmer licked his lips again. "Rimmer, you know I can't…" he began protesting faintly. It was getting harder for him to remember why he couldn't, when he so desperately wanted to.

Rimmer bent his head and Lister tensed up, but instead of the expected kiss, Rimmer's breath ghosted over his lips. "I'm scared, too. I've never felt like this before. It's like a fire in my veins. I need you and I don't know why. Help me understand why, Listy."

Lister studied the hopeful, fearful, somehow beautiful face so close to his own and muttered, "Smeg it." He surged up to meet Rimmer's lips, mouths open and seeking whatever that something was that was consuming them.

Lister didn't care that he was smearing Rimmer's newly-applied body paint. He didn't care that he was getting that same paint on his own costume. His entire world narrowed to the mouth that was kissing him with abandon; kissing him like it was the last kiss they would ever experience.

Time slowed so he could feel the rough texture of Rimmer's tongue; the slickness of the backs of his teeth, the silkiness of the curly hair between his fingers. There was a slight vibration in the kiss; it took a moment to figure out where it was coming from. Rimmer was making desperate, keening sounds that reverberated through Lister's entire body, causing him to shiver. It was then he felt Rimmer's fingers digging into his shoulder, trying to get purchase on his slick skin. He felt Rimmer's other hand slide down his back, over his arse to his thigh.

Their hips already pressed together, Lister could only slide his thigh up the outside of Rimmer's leg and hook his leg around the back of Rimmer's knee. Rimmer's hand followed the line of muscle along his lifted leg to his knee, hitching it up further as the lean hips gave a slow roll. Lister's hips jerked and he whined in the back of his throat. It wouldn't take him long to come if Rimmer kept moving just…like…that…

"I can't," Lister gasped, pulling away with effort. "I can't. I go on in ten minutes." As he struggled to breathe and get his body under control, Rimmer nipped at his neck, distracting him.

"You can't go on like this," Rimmer growled into his skin, punctuating his words with a thrust of his hips.

Lister muffled his groan on Rimmer's shoulder. "Please," he whined, and Rimmer abruptly stopped, leaving him dizzy with confusion.

"Rimmer, I go on stage in front of a crowd of horny men and women in," he glanced up a the clock above the door, " _Seven_ minutes, and I could break bricks with my dick. I want to bend you over the nearest surface and bury myself in you, but I _can't_ ," he said breathlessly. He saw the full body shiver his words caused Rimmer and berated himself for his lapse in control. "Don't you see? _This_ is why we can't work. Every time I'd see you, I'd imagine this. Every time you'd see me, you'd want us to do this again. I can't sleep with someone I work with."

He watched Rimmer swallow and licked his lips. Fascinated by the pulsepoint at the hollow of Rimmer's throat, he almost missed the quiet declaration, "I'll quit."

"The smeg you will," he snapped. "You will _not_ quit because of me."

"Well, _you_ can't quit," Rimmer snapped back. "You have a reputation and a following here. It'd be career suicide."

"Neither of us is quitting just because I love you, you big, smegging git," Lister yelled, nearly choking on the emotions that were swirling in the air between them. "Now I'm going on stage and giving those customers the dance of their lives because I'll be thinking about you while I'm out there grinding for them, you hear me?" With an impatient huff, he kissed Rimmer roughly, pushed him backwards and stomped toward the stage, all the while wondering what the smeg had gotten into him.

It was his biggest tip ever, seventy-three dollarpounds, and when he got back to the dressing room, Rimmer was gone. Petersen said he'd gone off to rehearse, but Lister suspected he was jacking off. If he hadn't had to go on stage, Lister knew he would have bent Rimmer over the nearest horizontal surface and buggered him; the need was that strong.

He dropped, exhausted, into his chair and covered his face with his hands. Had he really told Rimmer that he loved him? They hadn't even kissed until a half hour ago…and he'd meant every word. He groaned softly; he was well and truly smegged.

He'd spent his time on stage trying not to think about the heat of Rimmer's mouth, but now that he'd secured himself in the semi-privacy of the showers, he let himself remember it all. He wasn't even touching himself and he could feel his dick getting hard, just imagining that mouth around it. He hadn't bothered turning on the water, so there were still traces of baby oil on his skin. Rubbing sensually over his chest, he slicked his palm and wrapped his fingers around his erection, biting back a groan as he lost himself to the fantasy. It wasn’t the first time he'd jerked off thinking about Rimmer, but now he had taste and sound and skin and touch to enhance the experience. He didn't last long, so built-up from the kiss and the mass of pheromones the frenzied crowd generated.

He leaned his head against the wall beneath his arm, propping himself up as he quietly caught his breath. If Rimmer was even half as good as he imagined, Lister might never let him out of his bed. Still feeling a bit shaky, he turned on the spray and yelped as cold water assaulted him. It took too long to warm up, and he was shivering as he toweled himself off. Getting dressed in his regular clothes, he joined the crowd in the front of the club, not feeling ready to face Rimmer just yet.

Unfortunately, he recognized Rimmer's music as the lights went down. Slinking into the shadows of the bar, he watched, mesmerized, as Rimmer gyrated to the song, something about hungry wolves. Even though Rimmer had reapplied most of the body paint, Lister could see streaks where his hands had smeared it on Rimmer's arms and chest.

He'd never watched the other guys dance, instead preferring to come up with his own moves and ideas. He was captivated by the little grass skirt around Rimmer's waist. It should have looked silly, but it teased across his buttocks and groin, giving flashes of skin to the increasingly vocal audience.

When Rimmer slowly – _s-l-o-w-l-y_ – sank down with his knees spread and his hips rocking, Lister swore the men directly in front of him were going to pull him off stage. He was half out of his seat, ready to leap to Rimmer's defense, when with a saucy wink, Rimmer leaned back on his hands and thrust his hips to the beat before popping to his feet.

Lister was impressed. All dancers were in good shape, but Rimmer had some serious muscle control. Most guys did the crouch-down, legs-spread move quickly, just giving the customers enough time to tuck bills into their g-string. Lister was able to draw it out a bit, but Rimmer was down there a good minute and didn't rest on his haunches much; his thighs hovered above his calves most of the time, allowing the crowd more intimate access.

He watched the rest of Rimmer's set with one eye appreciating the aesthetics and one imagining those moves in bed. Lister had a gymnastics background, and he was beginning to see what Rimmer meant about the two of them on stage together. With Rimmer's athleticism and his flexibility, they could compliment each other well.

When the lights went down, the crowd went crazy, just as it had for him. Lister squirmed on the barstool, aroused and itching to get Rimmer back to his bed. It wasn't until the din quieted down that he heard the woman a few seats away from him.

"That's the hottie I was telling you about. I had my hand wrapped around his package – he was so long I could have used both, I swear."

The woman next to her glanced around and tried to shush her. "Quiet down, Meg. Someone will hear."

Lister's fist was clenched so tightly, he felt the bones of his hand creak. That woman – the one who had drugged Rimmer – was in the club! He knew Baxter wouldn't have let her in, so she must have sneaked in or bribed someone.

Meg waved her hand dismissively while draining the glass held in the other. She set the empty glass down with a loud thump. "It's been months. That stupid bouncer didn't recognize me, did he? We just have to wait until near closing and then sneak into the back rooms. No one will notice."

Lister was torn between getting Baxter, calling the police, or confronting the woman himself. In the end, it was anger that this woman dared to attempt to get near Rimmer again that drove him. It wasn't going to happen; not while he was breathing. He steadied himself, dredging up his on-stage persona until he could feel himself smile without it turning into a grimace. He slid off the barstool and stood next to the woman. He drawled, "Hey, doll. How about you and me engage in a little private time?"

She turned to look up at him, the annoyance on her face transforming into recognition, then delight, when she saw who he was. "Sebastian!"

He leaned down to rest his elbow on the bar and flashed her a grin. "The one and only, doll. So, what do you say? Want me to show you the stars?"

He kept smiling as she trailed her fingers down his chest, yet barely held himself in check as her other hand gripped his arse tightly. He felt a muscle jump in his jaw as she looked up at him coyly. "If I gave you two hundred dollarpounds, would you be willing to participate in a threesome?"

Lister flicked his gaze over the woman's friend appreciatively, but he knew she wouldn't be the third member. He tilted his head with a little shake. "I don't know; pleasuring two women is a lot of work. Make it three hundred and I'm all yours."

Meg turned fully away from her friend, a flush high on her cheeks. "Not her. I want the other dancer, Ace. Can you get him for me?"

He chuckled despite the lead weight sitting in his stomach. "You think you need two men to satisfy you? Doll, you haven't had the right man." He flicked her hair back from her neck and leaned down. He let his breath ghost across her skin, making sure he had her full attention. Then he whispered, "Let me make this perfectly clear, so there's no misunderstanding. You ever come in here again, ever look at Ace again, ever speak about him or even _think_ about him, you're going to wish that our bouncer was the one who found you and not _me_. Now, you can either leave quietly, or I call the cops and tell them you drugged and raped my lover." He stood back up, enjoying the look of fear that now dominated her eyes. Her previously flushed cheeks were pale, and her hands had dropped from his body.

"Sorry we couldn't work out a deal, doll, but if you have to leave, I understand," he threatened lightly.

Meg dug frantically in her purse for some money to pay her tab, ignoring her friend's questions. "We're going, Evie," she muttered, grabbing her friend's hand and making her way through the crowd.

Lister followed them to make sure they actually made it to the entrance. He pulled Baxter aside and let him know about the two women. The bouncer's scowl grew deeper as Lister told him what Meg said, and Baxter growled a threat to dismember whoever had let her in. Satisfied that Rimmer would be safe from that woman, Lister went back to the dressing rooms to see if Rimmer was ready to go.

He found Rimmer sat at his dressing table, fiddling with one of the body paint tubes. "Hey," he called softly with a grin. "Those were some impressive moves." His smile faded when Rimmer didn't acknowledge him. Heart tripping madly in his chest, he asked, "What's wrong?" His fear grew as Rimmer continued to ignore him. What had happened between their kiss and Rimmer's dance? Was it because Lister said he loved him?

He jumped as Rimmer suddenly flung the tube, sending it careening off the mirror. When Rimmer turned to him, his eyes were flashing bright green and his face was masked in anger. "I thought you didn't do extras," he said through clenched teeth.

Confused at the vehemence with which Rimmer snarled at him, he started to answer, "You know I don't…smeg." He broke off his own explanation, realization making him queasy. Rimmer must have seen him talking to Meg.

Before he could explain, Rimmer sneered, "'Smeg' indeed. I showered and changed quickly so we could get out of here, presuming you wanted to have sex with me, too. Only I saw you whispering in some customer's ear, clearly setting up a private dance."

"It's not what you think," he tried to explain, but Rimmer's barked laughter cut him off.

"Isn't it?" Rimmer said with an arched brow. "You weren't practically licking that woman's neck, and she wasn't gripping your arse?"

Frustrated, Lister yelled, "That was the woman who drugged you, you tit! I overheard her talking to her friend about how she'd jacked you off, and how she was going to sneak back here and do it again. I threatened her with the cops and told Baxter, so she'll never bother you again. I was _protecting_ you, Rimmer." He was breathing hard, pumped up on adrenaline. "Alls I want to do is shower to get her stench off of me."

He barely noticed how pale Rimmer had become, but didn't miss when Rimmer almost fell back into the chair. "She was here?" the other man asked faintly. "How did she get in?"

Lister leaned against the dressing table, keeping his voice low. "Baxter's taking care of it, I swear. She will not get in this club again. If he has to, Baxter will follow us home every night to make sure you're safe."

Slowly, Rimmer's eyes met his. "'Follow _us_ home'?" he repeated.

He chuckled nervously. "I only meant…"

Rimmer cleared his throat. "No, it's all right. I liked the sound of that. It's been a long time since I've had a home."

Lister smiled. "Me, too. How about we start with a proper date first, eh? You buy dinner and dessert's on me."

Rimmer's naughty smile matched his expression. "Only if dessert is physically on you."

Lister blinked and gave Rimmer his best innocent look. "Dessert _is_ me," he declared softly.

"Smeg," Rimmer groaned and pulled Lister close to snog him. Before Lister could get truly hot and bothered, Rimmer pulled away, panting heavily. "If we don't leave now, we're not leaving at all."

It took a moment for Lister' brain to catch up. "Right, yeah," he said and stood, helping Rimmer to his feet. "I have plans for you, mister."

"Only if they don't interfere with my plans for you," Rimmer taunted with a grin.

Lister grabbed his duffel and waited for Rimmer to get his bag, then they walked to a 24-hour fish and chip shop around the corner.

Lister watched in amazement as Rimmer put away two dinners without pausing. "How can you eat like that and stay in such good shape?"

Rimmer smirked. "Fast metabolism. Plus, I burn so many calories dancing that I need the fuel."

Lister eyed the fried fish. "I understand that, but you're eating pure grease. How can you not have bad skin at least?"

Rimmer's smirk faded. "Good genes, I suppose. I came from – I thought I came from – a very well-respected family on Io. Then I discovered that I wasn't my father's son after all. My mother had numerous affairs, and on my fourteenth birthday I was told that I was the son of the gardener." Rimmer shrugged, but Lister could tell he was upset. "Very nice fellow, spent all his time in the artificial sun. Seemed to take a liking to me, but before we could get to know each other as father and son, Mummy fired him and shipped me off to Earth."

Rimmer had always been reluctant to go into details about his family; now Lister knew why. "Hey. Hey," he called gently, getting Rimmer's attention. "You know I'm an orphan, so I don't give a smeg about houses or money or titles. I care about the person. I care about you."

Some of the haunted look left Rimmer's eyes, to be replaced with softness. "I care about you, too."

Lister couldn't hold his gaze; it was too intense. Instead, he looked pointedly at Rimmer's hand, which held the last bite of fish. "If you're done, dessert's waiting back at my place."


	3. A Study in Contradiction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back at Lister's flat, he and Rimmer share confessions and body fluids.

Despite the quick pace they set to get to Lister's flat, they both stood awkwardly in the living room, avoiding each other's gazes. 

The tension grew until Lister announced, "Smeg it all! Have a seat, Rimmer. I'm not going to throw you down and fuck you in the middle of the floor." 

Tension diffused, Rimmer chuckled quietly and set his bag by the door. He didn't sit so much as drape himself across the couch, one arm over the back invitingly. Rimmer quirked an eyebrow and his gaze raked Lister from head to toe. "Are you going to join me?" 

Relieved he could breathe again, Lister eyed him appreciatively. "Not that it isn't tempting, but I really want to shower if you don't mind waiting." 

Some of the playfulness left Rimmer's expression. "I don't mind waiting. I'd offer to scrub your back, but that's a bit forward." 

Lister's blood started to race and his breath quickened. "I'd take you up on that offer, too, if I didn't think I'd explode at the first touch. It's – been awhile," he admitted sheepishly. Despite telling himself every day that he couldn't have Rimmer, Lister hadn't slept with anyone in the months he'd known the other man. The few dates he'd been on had been fun, but he'd kissed them goodnight at their doors and declined their invitations for coffee. 

He frowned as Rimmer's casual pose vanished like an extinguished flame. Rimmer sat up straight, and it looked like it pained him to meet Lister's gaze. "I have a confession, too." 

Lister offered him a tender smile. "I already broke the sacred first rule of sleeping with someone new: admitting that it'd been awhile since I'd slept with someone. It's all right if you haven't either." 

"It – hasn't just been awhile," Rimmer started, then dropped his gaze to his entwined fingers. "It hasn't at all. Ever." 

His smile widened, expecting Rimmer to burst into laughter at the joke any second now – but Rimmer's gaze remained firmly on his nervously twisting fingers. Lister's smile faded and he settled next to Rimmer on the couch. "Hey, it's okay. Everyone has to have a first time, don't they? So what if you haven't slept with a guy? I remember the steps." 

Rimmer shook his head, so Lister was able to glimpse his expression – an odd mix of fear and misery. "Not just guys. Anyone." Rimmer turned to him and glumly pronounced, "I'm a virgin." 

This time, Lister didn't feel like laughing. He said the first thing that popped into his head: "How is that possible?" 

"It's not something I'm particularly proud of," Rimmer said hotly. "It's damn inconvenient, if you must know. I don't trust anyone I've worked with, and I sure as hell don't trust the customers. I can't talk to women as myself, and guys…" Lister sucked in a breath as Rimmer focused his intense stare at him and added quietly, "If anyone found out I was a 28-year-old virgin, I'd be ruined." 

As impossible as it sounded, it made sense to Lister. His own rule about sleeping with those he worked with had benefited him far more than it'd hurt him. Rimmer had just taken that rule to the extreme. Yet he couldn't understand how Rimmer had gotten through life, moving like he could, without someone taking advantage of him. Then he remembered that Meg had done just that, and would have done again if it weren't for his interference. 

To settle the disquieted Rimmer, he placed his hand on Rimmer's knee and squeezed. "As I said, everyone has to have a first time. I'd be honored if it were me." 

The dark cloud that had settled over Rimmer slowly evaporated, leaving a wary nervousness. "You're not disgusted or – something?" 

Lister offered him an encouraging smile. "Why would I be disgusted? You haven't found the right person, you have morals, or you're just shy talking to other people. It's not a crime to be a virgin." He wagged his eyebrows and squeezed Rimmer's knee again. "Besides, this means I get to break you in." 

Rimmer shot him a withering glare. "I'm a virgin, not a horse. And I do read, you know. I read up on the latest tricks in the bedroom and make sure to have quips ready when the posturing begins at the club. I probably know more than you…" Color rose high on Rimmer's cheeks as he continued, "I just don't have any practical experience." 

Lister started to rub his thumb along Rimmer's knee, pleased as he felt Rimmer shiver beneath his touch. "Any practical experience?" he murmured, leaning in closer to nuzzle at Rimmer's neck. "You're telling me you've never," he blew a stream of air against Rimmer's skin as his hand slid up to his crotch, "wrapped a hand around your cock and rubbed off, thinking about me?" 

He could feel the rapid heartbeat just beneath his lips and heard Rimmer's low groan as he curled his hand inward, teasing his fingertips along the length of Rimmer's cock. All thoughts of showering gone, Lister touched his lips to the skin at Rimmer's neck, flicking his tongue in a random pattern. 

Rimmer's breaths were growing unsteady, now more a shudder than an exhale. Lister traced the outline of Rimmer's cock with his fingers, making a pleased sound that vibrated against Rimmer's neck. 

"You've thought about me, then?" He punctuated each question with a gentle, sucking kiss to the rapidly warming skin beneath his mouth. "How my dick would feel in your hand? In your mouth?" He stopped and listened to the soft whines catch in Rimmer's throat, the air almost shimmering around them with the build-up of sexual tension. He ghosted his lips up Rimmer's neck to his jaw, trying to draw Rimmer into participating. He waited until Rimmer turned his head, eyes dark with desire, then asked, "What I'd look like, spread out beneath you?"

The delicate balance Lister had cultivated was abruptly upset, just as he'd hoped. With a groaned, "Fuck," Rimmer plundered his mouth while his hand palmed Lister through his jeans. 

Lister voiced his appreciation as Rimmer shifted them, allowing him to firmly grasp the thigh and cock he'd been teasing. His other hand gravitated to Rimmer's hair, grasping it as Rimmer nipped at his lower lip. 

He thought he heard Rimmer mutter, "Naked," and whined in agreement. It took some maneuvering as neither wanted to let go of the hot length of flesh they'd discovered, but soon Rimmer's shirt was on the floor and Lister's dangled off his elbow. Before Lister could get his hands back on Rimmer's cock, they were deflected by Rimmer's overeager hands, fumbling at his button and fly. 

"Hey, hey," he called softly, cupping Rimmer's face between his palms and capturing his attention. "This isn't a race. You've got all the time in the world, Rimmer. I'm not going anywhere." 

Some of the strain around Rimmer's mouth and eyes lessened, and he seemed to relax minutely. "Sorry, Lister; it's just…"

Lister kissed him softly. "You don't have to apologize for wanting to get in my pants. Try to think of me as a present you get to unwrap, but you only get one. You have to make it last, you know? Take your time and enjoy it." To emphasize his point, he lay back on the couch and arched his back, pushing his hips up into Rimmer's hands. "Try to do it with your teeth."

Wide, fearful eyes met his. "Do what?" 

Lister lowered his hips and smiled encouragingly. "Pull down the fly. Undo the button with your hands…" he waited expectantly until Rimmer popped the button. He heard his voice getting huskier as he instructed Rimmer on how to remove his pants. "Now, lean down and use your tongue to get the tab in your teeth." He felt as shaky as Rimmer looked bent over his crotch, mouth hovering over the one place he'd dreamed about it being. "Slowly start to move it down. Feel each one pull apart, exposing more of…" he broke off with a groan as Rimmer started to move, the slight pops of the teeth coming apart feeling like jolts through his stomach. "Yeah, like that." 

He buried his hands in Rimmer's hair but forced himself not to guide him, though it was hard to overcome instinct to push Rimmer where he wanted him. To temper the arousal that was threatening to spill over, he concentrated on massaging Rimmer's scalp, encouraging him with small gasps as fingers dug into the waistband of his jeans. 

He was about to ask why Rimmer stopped, when he felt Rimmer nosing into the top of his jeans, then teeth tugging at his underwear. "Smegging hell, Rimmer," he gasped, using reserved strength to stop his thrust upward. "Warn a guy next time." 

Voice sounding like his throat was shredded, Rimmer declared, "I want to taste you." 

Lister's brain went on immediate holiday. The only two words it could come up with were, "Fuck yes." He wasn't even sure he'd said it aloud, until Rimmer finished pulling down his jeans with his hands, dragging the underwear with them. They tangled at Lister's boots, but Rimmer was steadier than him in getting them off. 

Shaking now, Lister reached out for Rimmer and pulled him up for another kiss. When Lister tilted his head back, Rimmer started to kiss his jaw, giving little nips to his neck, then tiny licks to his chest. Lister clenched the back and edge of the couch in his fists, afraid that if he grabbed hold of Rimmer's hair this time, he'd yank hunks of it out. 

He was so hard it was starting to hurt, and he heard his own desperate voice pleading with Rimmer to have pity on him. When Rimmer's long fingers wrapped around the base of his cock, he shouted. When they started to stroke, he whimpered. When he felt Rimmer's mouth close around the head, he nearly came. When Rimmer's tongue swirled around the head, then licked the underside, he could only choke out, "Come—" before he was shooting his load, sparks flaring behind his closed eyelids. 

As he struggled to catch his breath, he felt Rimmer's tongue lapping at his thigh. "You're going to kill me," he croaked. 

As Rimmer met his gaze, he saw the intense strain of holding back in his expression. "Come here," he whispered, encouraging Rimmer to kneel over him. He quickly undid Rimmer's zip and pushed down his trousers and underwear, leaving the purpling erection waving in the air between them. He grasped Rimmer's buttocks and pushed him upward until he could lick at the underside of Rimmer's dick. 

"Shit," Rimmer whimpered. 

Lister blocked out everything but the scent and heat, concentrating on taste as he took Rimmer into his mouth. He heard the double thumps of Rimmer's hands hitting the arm of the couch above his head as he flicked his tongue along the tip. He shifted his hands to grip Rimmer's hips, tempering his thrusts. He wasn't in practice to deep throat, but he used his tongue the way he liked it done to him, and was rewarded by the flex of Rimmer's hip muscles and a shaky groan. 

He sucked and licked, all the while breathing deep of the musky scent that surrounded him. He felt Rimmer's entire body trembling, then heard the choked off, "L-Lis—" and braced himself as Rimmer came. 

He didn't realize he'd closed his eyes while sucking Rimmer off, but as he opened them, he saw that Rimmer had half-collapsed against the back of the couch, his arms and legs visibly shaking as he tried to keep himself off of Lister.

Sated, sticky and tired, Lister tugged gently on Rimmer's arms until he was lying on top of him. "We can't sleep here; we'll suffocate each other," he said on a yawn. 

"I don't know that I'll be able to sleep," Rimmer admitted, and Lister saw amazement and regret in his eyes. 

The regret caught his attention, waking him fully. "What's wrong? Are you okay?" he asked, worried that something had happened when he was concentrating on Rimmer's orgasm. 

Rimmer shook his head, and Lister could make out the barest flush on his cheeks. "It's stupid. I wish I'd done this sooner." 

"I don't." At Rimmer's look of surprise and hurt, he reached up to cup Rimmer's cheek, stroking his thumb along the cheekbone. "I'm glad it was with me. Now come to bed; this isn't the most comfortable couch." 

They moved like old men, scratching at the floor to get their scattered clothes and shuffling into the bedroom. Rimmer hesitated beside the bed, even after Lister had fallen into it. 

"What's it?" he slurred, sleep trying desperately to claim him. 

"Is it okay if I have a quick shower, or at least wash up?" Rimmer asked timidly. 

He waved a hand in the general direction of the wash room. "Help yourself, then come to bed." 

He'd almost drifted to sleep when he felt the bed dip next to him. He startled as a damp cloth cleaned up his stomach and thighs, surprised that Rimmer would think to do it. With half-open eyes, he managed to get his hand around the back of Rimmer's neck and pulled him down for a sweet kiss. He murmured, "Thanks," and kept his hand on Rimmer's neck as the other man settled next to him. 

He heard a murmured, "Thank you," before he drifted to sleep.


	4. Practice Makes Perfection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rimmer and Lister try to work out a new routine for the club.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I assume they had music on while practicing, so give Sexy Back a go: http://youtu.be/Fz1BXF7bVpM

"There's no way I can do it," Lister proclaimed, growing more annoyed with his lover.

"I've seen you do handstands, Lister," Rimmer admonished him, wiping sweat from his forehead with his arm. "It's the same principle."

He snorted despite not fully having his breath back. "No, it's not. You're wanting me to do it backwards." Lister put his hands on his hips and glared at Rimmer. They'd been trying to work out a new routine for weeks, but kept running into one obstacle after another.

Persuasion in the form of dinner at a fancy restaurant had Lister agreeing to dance with Rimmer on stage. Lister had a healthy ego – it was almost a requirement for what he did for a living – but Rimmer kept pushing to mix their private lives with their job. Rather than just showing off their skills and assets, Rimmer had demonstrated increasingly provocative and suggestive moves that Lister had balked at. Lister marked a clear distinction between himself and Sebastian, but Rimmer didn't have the same problem existing as both Ace and Rimmer. Stripping for strangers was one thing; mimicking having sex with your lover in front of a crowd was quite another, and Lister had held firm in his refusal.

It had taken serious persuasion – not letting Lister touch himself as Rimmer fucked him slowly – for Lister to get past his reservations and see it from the customer's point of view. Watching two men interact with each other on stage would be a big turn-on. Watching two men feign blow jobs and fucking, and grinding against each other would be even bigger, and was worth showing to Todhunter.

But now, Rimmer's insistence on using Lister's gymnastic ability was pushing him beyond his limits. "Rimmer, I'm telling you, I cannot do a handstand by leaning backwards. I can't keep my balance."

"Can you lean back and touch the floor with your hands?" Rimmer asked hopefully.

Lister realized where Rimmer was going with his query and sighed. Reluctantly, he got back in position next to his lover. "Spot me. If I land on me head again, I'm withholding sex for a week."

It was Rimmer's turn to snort. "You wouldn't last an hour, let alone a day."

Lister was thinking about how to kick Rimmer in the head instead of balancing himself properly, and ended up flat on his back, glaring up at a thoughtful-looking Rimmer.

"How about trying it from there? Pop up to an arch, then push your feet into the air."

Lister didn't budge from his sprawl. "And you'll be doing what while I'm lying on the floor?"

"Crawling over you." At Lister's arched brow, Rimmer smiled. "Stay there."

Still trying to work out the complexity of the move in his head, Lister nonetheless stayed where he was, head tilted back to watch Rimmer kneel on the floor. Rimmer started to crawl – no, stalk toward him, an animal after its prey. When Rimmer's head was directly over his, Rimmer leaned down with parted lips and Lister anticipated a kiss, but Rimmer kept going, his arms on either side of Lister's chest. Lister's breathing deepened as he realized that Rimmer's crotch would soon be just above his head. He bit back a sound of need as the familiar musky scent surrounded him, the dimmed light adding to the closed-in feeling. He reached up and rubbed along Rimmer's thighs, wishing it was skin he was stroking instead of cloth.

Rimmer swayed above him, his head dropping down to growl back at him, "No touching, Lister. How many times do I have to tell you?"

"If you didn't want me to touch you, you shouldn't have given me a front row seat to your cock," he informed Rimmer gruffly, giving his arse a slap. "Or your arse." He slapped Rimmer's cheek again.

"Bastard," Rimmer muttered. "You made me forget my next move."

He chuckled. "Good time for a break, then."

"Don't you move, Lister," Rimmer threatened. He hovered over Lister again, then leaned back into a crouch, just at the top of Lister's head. "Now, pop up into the arch," he instructed.

Swallowing as he realized where this would place them, Lister reached up and braced his hands and feet on the floor, then arched his back, head tilted backward to face Rimmer's crotch.

Barely a second later, Rimmer was on his feet and instructing, "Now push off with your feet, really push so you get momentum…"

Grunting, Lister tried to lift his legs, but he tipped off-balance and ended up on the floor. "Smeg, this isn't going to work."

"Try it again," Rimmer coaxed, offering a hand up.

Lister shook his head as he rubbed at his shoulder where he'd landed on it. "It's an impossible angle, Rimmer. If I'm inverted like that, I don't have the power in my arms and legs to push off properly." Sudden inspiration struck. "If you're wanting to catch my legs, I can do a back handspring."

Rimmer had a curious mix of annoyance and awe on his face. "If you could do that, why didn't you say so earlier?"

He shrugged. "Handsprings are faster than what you've been talking about, and I'd have to be standing, facing away from you. We'd have to time it just right, so you could stop me from landing on my feet or kicking you in the head." He rolled his shoulder to test it; it felt fine. Exhaling, he bent his knees and punched up, arching backwards until his hands hit the floor, pushing his hips to bring his feet up and over until he felt the floor beneath his feet again. As he straightened, his face was grasped between familiar hands and he was soundly kissed.

When Lister was released, he chuckled breathlessly. "If a back handspring gets that reaction, what would a half twist get me?"

"Depending on what you're twisting, quite possibly the best blow job of your life," Rimmer answered with a smirk.

"Tempting – but not now," he added, seeing Rimmer's eyes darken with arousal. "We need to work out pacing and timing. I'll do a few handsprings and you try to measure the distance I travel, to get an idea of how far back you'll need to stand to catch me." It'd been awhile since Lister had done more than one handspring, so doing a long pass of six left him dizzy.

Rimmer regarded him thoughtfully as Lister walked toward him. "Five to six steps back should do. If you can practice bringing your legs around more slowly, you won't have as much momentum for me to stop."

Lister didn't know if it was even possible to slow down the handspring, but Rimmer had unknowingly given him an opportunity: whenever he spent the night at Rimmer's, they ordered take-away or ate out because Rimmer was a horrible cook. He tilted his chin up in a challenge. "Only if you're willing to learn how to cook a proper meal."

Rimmer spluttered before protesting weakly, "I can cook!"

He crossed his arms and glared. "Reheating take-away isn't cooking. I mean from scratch, get raw food from the store and prepare it on the cooker cooking."

" _Fine_ ," Rimmer groused. "But I want a blow job for the pain and suffering of having to go to the market."

Lister glowered at him. "Oi, I've already gotten my assignment in this already. I'm not giving you a blow job for holding up your end of the bargain."

Rimmer's eyes took on a predatory gleam. "What about a blow job for a blow job?"

Lister rolled his eyes. It wasn't the first time he suspected he'd unleashed a sex monster in Rimmer, but he only complained in jest. "Is that why you're so keen to get this standing 69 to work? So you can hold me upside down and suck me off?"

"You've uncovered my dastardly plot," Rimmer said with a put-upon sigh. "All this work just so I could get your dick down my throat."

He walked up to Rimmer and slid his hands along the trim waist, looking up at his lover coyly. He felt Rimmer's hands stroke along his arse as he was pulled closer to the lean body. "That works both ways, you know," he said, playfully mocking Rimmer's single-mindedness. "I'd have your dick in my mouth."

"Let's forget the standing bit and go straight to the blow job bit," Rimmer murmured before kissing him.

Lister forgot about the rest of rehearsal as they enjoyed a different sort of workout.


	5. Touch, Peel, Stand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Riviera Kid is doing a one-night only show at Starbuggers. Todhunter has agreed to let Lister and Rimmer do their new routine for the hyped-up crowd. This is the big one, folks. Pick your soundtrack and get reading!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The opening song for this chapter is [Tonight I'm Fucking You](http://youtu.be/5OWIyjBXeJY) by Enrique Iglesias. I'd prefer if it was like a dance club mix with these next songs worked into it, but obviously I couldn't find such a thing and I don't have the ability to make it myself. 
> 
> [Get Naked](http://youtu.be/1me5rHk_Rc4) by Methods of Mayhem
> 
> [I Want Your Sex](http://youtu.be/vldh7oQD-a4) by George Michael
> 
> [I Wanna Be A Cowboy](http://youtu.be/s05jcrJw0as) by Boys Don't Cry
> 
> [Do Me](http://youtu.be/ZieygZyvw4A) by Bel Biv Devoe
> 
> [Uhh Ahh](http://youtu.be/w7PpeSwF1WM) by Boyz II Men
> 
> I couldn't find a video anywhere for Prince's Gett Off, so it's just the [lyrics](http://www.songlyrics.com/prince/gett-off-lyrics/) and [snippits](https://itunes.apple.com/tw/album/gett-off-ep/id260347658) to give you an idea of the song.
> 
> For Riviera Kid's song, I figured Uhh Ahh and a nice strong beat would work.

Sebastian settled his bare back on the darkened stage, his senses heightened as they always were before the music started. His black cowboy hat rested over his face, chaps-clad legs crossed at the ankles suggesting a cowboy asleep under the stars. The audience had seen him come out on stage, but they didn't know that Ace would be joining him. It was what they'd worked out with Todhunter: a surprise treat for the crowd who had come out to see The Riviera Kid. The best dancer on the circuit, Riviera Kid drew big numbers in terms of bodies and money, and Frank had been willing to take a risk on a new routine from two of his house dancers. 

When the music started up, Sebastian felt the attention of the audience leave him to focus on Ace, who would be standing in a spotlight in his long brown duster and chaps, white cowboy hat tipped low over his eyes. Sebastian counted out the beats in his head, the noise of the crowd fading to the background as he pictured Ace dancing to center stage, turning around and sliding the duster off his arms, revealing his assless chaps to the crowd. Sebastian's own bare ass was cold against the floor, but he started sweating when his spotlight kicked on, his cue that it was time to remove his hat. 

He held his over his groin as he pushed his hips up with his feet flat on the stage, thrusting to the beat. When Ace crawled into view above his head, he dropped his ass back to the stage and reached up for Ace's thighs, stroking along the fake leather as Ace straddled his bare chest. Sebastian arched up as Ace rocked down, their chests nearly touching. Then Ace was gone, behind him in a crouched position, and Sebastian quickly popped up into a back arch, bobbing his head back and forth, mimicking giving Ace a blow job. 

Ace's hand stroking down his chest was his cue to lie flat on the stage and roll to his stomach, humping the ground a few times before getting to his feet and bending over, shaking his ass toward the crowd. Ace was mimicking his move on the other side of the stage, and at the music cue, they ripped off the chaps, chucking them toward the back of the stage. 

Sebastian crouched down, gyrating near the hands eagerly wanting to touch and tuck bills in his thong. He made his way along the edge of the stage to reach the main section, where Ace was just thrusting his way into position. They met in the middle of the stage, Sebastian with his back to Ace's front, and bent over to hold his ankles as Ace thrust against his ass. Sebastian arched his back and stroked his legs as he stood up, rolling his hips in time with Ace's. 

Ace caught his arm and spun him so they were face to face, then Sebastian spun Ace away from him and pushed on his back until Ace was grabbing his ankles and Sebastian could thrust against his ass. Breathing hard, Sebastian pulled Ace back up and turned him so they could stare at each other in a lull in the song, building the tension. 

It was designed so they could catch their breaths before Sebastian did the handspring and Ace caught him, but even through his concentration, Sebastian could feel the intensity of the crowd surging at them. He settled himself as quickly as he could, and on his nod, they stepped away from each other, giving a few good hip thrusts toward the crowd as they got into position. Sebastian punched backward a few beats too early, but felt Ace's hands catch his ankles as he swayed on his hands. He started to bend his knees as Ace's arms slid down his calves, changing their position and center of gravity. Sebastian bent his elbows as Ace's arms locked around the back of his knees, pushing himself up as Ace securely held his legs against his chest. He gripped Ace's lower calves as Ace turned them around, giving the crowd a 360 degree view of their head-to-foot hold.

Sebastian dropped his hands back to the ground, bracing himself as Ace loosened the hold on his legs. He came out of the upside down position with a modified flip, then went immediately to his hands and one knee, Ace in the same pose behind him. Three beats, then they began to hump the stage on their way to the edge, feeding off the crowd. Sebastian had never felt so many hands on him, but it pumped him up more, and he started shouting encouragement. He thought he heard Ace doing the same, but it was impossible to make out his voice amidst the pandemonium. Sebastian concentrated on the customers around him, flicking his tongue and grinding his hips to their delight. 

So engrossed with interacting with the crowd, Sebastian almost missed the cue for the end of the song. He jumped to his feet and located his hat, thankfully still on the stage. As Ace retrieved his hat from the back of the stage, Sebastian circled him until they were side by side. On the last beats of the song, they kicked their left legs to the side, tucked their left hands behind their backs, and slowly settled their hats back on their heads, pulled low over their eyes.

Sebastian couldn't even hear his own heart thumping over the excitement of the crowd. It was like a physical force pushing at them and he drank it in, letting it keep his adrenaline pumping. He and Ace crossed to opposite sides of the stage, hopping down into the crowd to finish them off. Sebastian made eye contact with everyone he could, making sure to trail his hands along shoulders, arms, waists and the occasional arse, flashing his trademarked grin all the while. 

It took a good ten minutes to get beyond the stage area, to the crowd at the back of the club. They were the most appreciative, as they hadn't had the chance to see them up close or touch. While Sebastian didn't do lap dances, he did thrust his crotch in a few faces to keep the crowd's energy up, not that they actually needed encouragement. 

Sebastian was starting to crash from the rush, so made his way off the floor to the dressing room area. He took the towel from Hollister and immediately began wiping down his face and chest, grabbing at the bills that came loose from his hat. It took him a moment of relative quiet before he could fully let go of his persona, feeling like himself again. 

Lister broke into a wide, exhausted grin. They'd done it! Weeks of practice, bruises and sore muscles had paid off in a spectacular show. After all the mis-steps with Rimmer catching him during the handspring, it had gone off without a hitch. Rimmer had even done the turn, something they hadn't actually managed in practice. Plus, it wasn't as bad as he thought, being out there with Rimmer. By staying in Sebastian's persona, he was able to distance himself from his lover, Rimmer, and work professionally with Ace, his dance partner. They could make this work. He owed Rimmer more than a day in bed – he owed him a night on the town. 

He glanced down at his crotch and smirked – he was nearly twice the size, and it was from the bills stuffed anyway and anyhow into his thong. He removed the cowboy hat and checked his dreads first, pulling out two fives and some singles that had gotten tangled, then started removing the bills from his thong. As it kept piling up, his eyes got bigger; he'd only ever seen that much money when he worked at the bank. Granted, it wasn't a drawer full of fifty-five thousand dollarpounds, but it was easily three hundred. 

Rimmer stumbled in, distracting Lister from his tips as he dropped into his chair and let his head fall back. "I've never been so exhausted in my life," Rimmer groaned. 

"You and me both," Lister commiserated, then held out a fistful of dollarpounds. "But this makes the pain go away." 

Rimmer eyed it, then glanced down at his own full thong with the bills sticking out every which way. "It dampens it greatly, but I'm just too tired to appreciate it. All I want to do is sleep." 

"We can't leave yet; we're all on call for the finale," Lister reminded him tiredly. "The best we can do is nap for an hour or so." 

"You! Little cowboys," interrupted a man dressed all in black, pointing at them. "You will not miss The Riviera Kid's show. I forbid it!" 

Lister's eyes widened, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Rimmer sit up straight. Riviera Kid, _The_ Rivera Kid, was glaring at them with his hands on his hips, looking affronted. "No way! The Riviera Kid is talking to us!" Lister blurted out stupidly. 

Rimmer retained slightly more of his sense and babbled, "Mr. Kid, may I call you Mr. Kid? It's an honor to meet you, sir. You're legendary. You're amazing. You're…really hot." 

Lister had to agree with his lover: The Riviera Kid was smoking hot. Perfectly done hair, eyes highlighted with black eyeliner and smoky eyeshadow, dark red lips, an incredible ass encased in black faux leather pants with rhinestone seams down the sides, a black bolero jacket studded with fake rhinestones emphasizing his sculpted chest and a red sash highlighting his trim waist. Even his boots were polished to a high shine. Next to him, Lister felt like a dirty, scuzzy bum. 

The Kid smoothed a hand over his hair and smiled. "I _am_ really hot, aren't I?" He glanced to Rimmer. "What was your name again? Stud? Jack?"

Rimmer looked panicked and Lister almost felt sorry for him, but he was worried that The Kid would want to speak to him, next. "Ace, sir. I mean, I'm Rimmer. Arnold Rimmer." 

The Kid took Rimmer's offered hand and shook it with his thumb and index finger. Then Lister was fixed with that dark gaze. "And you, short stuff. You had a complicated name, yes?" 

"Sebastian," he muttered, not bothering to hold out his hand. He didn't think he could take that condescending look directed at him. "Dave Lister, sir. It's an honor to meet you." 

The Kid waved his hand dismissively. "Of course it is; I'm The Riviera Kid. And you will watch me." Lister jumped as The Kid clapped his hands sharply, seeing Rimmer startle as well. "Outside, now! I will be on in fifteen minutes." 

It clearly wasn't an option. "Of course," Rimmer demurred, and Lister nodded dumbly in agreement. 

As The Kid left the dressing room, it felt like he took all the oxygen with him. "I'm not going out there like this," Lister muttered as he wiped his face with his palms. "I want to get lost in the crowd." 

"There's no time," Rimmer whined as he pulled wads of money out of his thong. "I stink and I'll be lucky to get a shower." 

"I'm not a sweet peach over here, either," Lister remarked sharply, then got an idea. "We can save time by showering together." 

Rimmer didn't even pause in stacking up his money. "That's never been a time saver, Lister. We're usually in there a half hour or longer." 

"And whose fault is that?" he remarked as he shoved his money in his drawer and locked it. He removed his boots and thong, then headed to the shower. "I'll be two minutes. If you don't join me, you better be dressed when I get out." 

"Or else what?" Rimmer called to his retreating back, but he kept walking, knowing that Rimmer would follow him. 

He turned on the spray and waited for it to warm up, only tensing slightly at he felt familiar hands at his waist. "Sexy bastard," was muttered into his hair as Rimmer's hands stroked along his bare ass. 

"There's no time, Rimmer," Lister admonished him as he stepped out from Rimmer's touch, entering the shower. Rimmer stepped in behind him and they washed away the sweat and the smell of humanity that clung to them. 

They pulled on their normal clothes, Lister not bothering to do up all his shirt buttons. They fought their way through the crowd to the bar area, where Kryten was doing his own particular dance behind the bar, keeping up with the influx of drink orders. 

"Evening, sirs! What'll it be?" the mechanoid called to them. Ever since Todhunter had rescued Kryten from the scrap bin, he'd been a very grateful and loyal employee. His only fault, if he had any, was that he didn't like confrontation. Amiable almost to the point of nauseating sweetness, he nonetheless knew never to address the dancers by their stage or real names. To him, they were anonymous customers to be treated equally. 

Used to Rimmer's strange drinking habits, Lister merely shook his head fondly as his lover ordered a dry white wine and Perrier. Lister ordered himself a Leopard Lager, then turned to look out over the crowd. It was unbearably loud in the club, more bodies packed in than normal due to The Kid's appearance. They wouldn't be able to see well from the bar, but there weren't many other places they could go. 

He took his drink from Rimmer, sipping at the foam to keep it from spilling. He looked up as Rimmer nudged him; McIntyre was nodding to them from near the stairs. They carefully made their way over, trying not to spill their drinks on the patrons or draw too much attention to themselves. Before they reached McIntyre, the lights went out and the crowed started screaming in anticipation of The Riviera Kid. 

"If you want a good view, go on up. No VIPs in there right now," McIntyre said in Lister's ear, shouting to be heard over the music that had just started. "No one wants to miss The Kid." 

"Thanks, man," Lister shouted back, and he and Rimmer ducked under the velvet rope to the private area. It was slightly cooler and much easier to breathe as they leaned on the half-wall separating VIP from the rest of the club. 

At least, they could breathe until The Riviera Kid exploded onto the stage, then oxygen became a secondary concern. 

He was a Dancer – the word needed to be capitalized in Lister's head – of the purest form. Lister could almost believe he was watching a performance on the West End, rather than a striptease. High kicks blended seamlessly with erotic hip rolls. Each hand gesture was graceful and led into the next move, be it the splits, shrugging the jacket off his shoulders or kneeling at the edge of the stage lying almost fully on his back. 

As The Kid leapt into the air and twisted around, both Lister and Rimmer gasped; he'd taken off his sash mid-twist. With a flick of his wrist, The Kid was straddling the sash, rocking his hips back and forth before throwing it into the crowd. 

"Smeg," Lister breathed, the pride he'd felt at accomplishing his most advanced routine vanishing as The Kid's moves grew more complex. Gyrating, spinning, thrusting, grinding, leaping and rolling all brought the crowed to a fevered pitch and left The Kid in a bright red g-string trimmed with sparkling rhinestones that reflected the lights. 

The show stopper was when The Kid did a headstand and slowly brought his legs down into a split in the middle of the stage. Even from his position at the back of the room, Lister could see the outline of corded muscle in The Kid's calves, thighs and ass, and adjusted himself as he grew hard in his jeans. 

"I suddenly feel very inadequate," Rimmer said loudly in his ear; even then he could barely be heard over the roar of the crowd. 

"I'm fucking horny," Lister muttered, eyes fixated on The Kid's back muscles. He rubbed his cock through the denim, his breaths growing deeper. He leaned his free hand against the half-wall, eyes moving with the liquid muscles on display. 

When a hand joined his between his thighs, he groaned and sagged against Rimmer. His lover's voice in his ear encouraged him to shuffle backwards into one of the privacy booths. When the curtain fell closed around them, Lister turned and devoured Rimmer's mouth, his heart hammering in his chest. 

The booth wasn't built for actual sex, but Rimmer dropped to his haunches and pulled down Lister's jeans, exposing his erection to the air for a brief moment before sucking it down. 

Lister's hands slapped against the wall, bracing himself to thrust into Rimmer's willing mouth and throat. He choked on half-sobs as he watched his cock disappear between Rimmer's lips; as he felt Rimmer's hum of encouragement vibrate along his cock. Just when he thought it couldn't get any sweeter, he felt Rimmer's fingers dig into his arse, pulling him in deeper. His cry was audible in the small room, but couldn't possibly be heard over the noise outside, as he shot down Rimmer's throat. 

Panting heavily, he sank to his knees as his legs were too shaky to support him. He slid his tongue deep into Rimmer's mouth, not caring that he was tasting himself. Blood was still zipping through his veins at breakneck speed, and his hands made quick work of Rimmer's button and zip. Lister groped for his lover's cock, pulling back when he found it only half-hard. 

"Did you come already?" he asked, trying to make his brain function properly. It was difficult with his jeans tangled around his calves and his spent member hanging in the air. 

Rimmer shook his head and avoided Lister's gaze, his cheeks flushed dark red. "It isn't right, is it?" he asked timidly as he sank awkwardly to the floor. 

Realizing Rimmer was having one of his 'moments', Lister wriggled back into his jeans and pulled up the zip. Rimmer would sometimes have moments of doubt, but usually not right after he'd just sucked Lister's brains out via his dick. He forgot sometimes that Rimmer hadn’t had a lover before him, so Rimmer had no comparison for the feelings that cropped up. Feeling somewhat ready for the conversation, Lister asked, "What isn't right?"

"Getting off on watching someone else. I mean," Rimmer started to explain hastily on Lister's disbelieving look, "I know it's what we do for a living, but that's them. This is us. Can I still love you and be – turned on by other people?" he asked. 

"You're not a eunuch, Rimmer," he assured his lover with a gentle squeeze to the area in question. "And you're not a saint. What we do: exciting other people, giving them the fantasy of us wanting them – we're human, too. We can be affected by an attractive body and it's okay." He posed the question: "We both thought The Riviera Kid was hot, yeah?" At Rimmer's nod, he asked, "Would you have let him fuck you?" 

Rimmer immediately started to reply, then closed his mouth. Lister was glad; it meant Rimmer was really thinking about the situation, coming to his own conclusion and not giving the answer he thought Lister wanted to hear. 

Rimmer met his gaze squarely and answered, "I imagined it, but if he asked me straight out? No, I don't think so." 

Lister sent him a winsome grin. "There's your answer, then. You can have fantasies, but as long as you're in my bed, or I'm in yours, it doesn't matter what you imagine." He slid his hand inside Rimmer's open jeans, giving him a firm stroke. He enjoyed hearing the hitch to Rimmer's breathing; it meant he was shutting off his brain and letting his body take over. 

"Get up on the chair," he murmured as he licked at the side of Rimmer's neck. He watched with hooded eyes as Rimmer leveraged himself up to the edge of the plush chair, licking his lips in anticipation of tasting his lover again. "Lift your hips a bit," he instructed gruffly, taking hold of Rimmer's jeans and pulling them down and out of his way. He immediately bent his head and licked at the crease of Rimmer's thigh, tasting the salty sweat that had gathered there. He felt Rimmer's hands wrap around his dreads as Rimmer's knees opened wide, giving Lister all the access he needed. 

With Rimmer's ass barely on the chair, Lister grabbed hold and tilted Rimmer's hips just where he wanted them. He took the tip of Rimmer's erection in his mouth and hummed his way down the shaft, drawing choked sounds from above him. Hands pushed at his head and he flattened his tongue, letting Rimmer slide down his throat until he felt his gag reflex kick in, then bobbed back up the shaft. He repeated the move a half dozen times, each time Rimmer getting more enthusiastic with his vocal appreciation. Soon Rimmer's thighs were trembling, pressed against Lister's shoulders, and he started to call Lister's name. Lister exhaled and went down until Rimmer's curls tickled his nose. When he swallowed, Rimmer shouted and tugged his hair as he came, Lister loving the feel of Rimmer's length throb in his throat. He backed up Rimmer's softening shaft, swallowing and licking it clean until he reached the head. 

When he finally raised his eyes, Rimmer looked dazed and sated. "I do love you, you know," Rimmer murmured as he stroked idly at Lister's cheek. 

Lister felt warmth on his cheeks. No matter how many times Rimmer said he loved him, it affected him like the first time. With one last lick, he let the head of Rimmer's cock fall off of his tongue, then knelt up. He kissed Rimmer softly and answered, "I know. Now, we best get back out on the floor, before someone wants to use this room." 

They quickly refastened their clothes, making themselves as presentable as two guys could in the VIP section of a strip club. Lister peeked out first and breathed a sigh of relief; The Kid was still working the crowd and it looked like the other curtains were open, meaning they'd escaped detection. He slipped back out to the open area, Rimmer following a step behind. As they walked past McIntyre, he barely glanced at them, instead concentrating on the crowd that was pushing to get closer to The Riviera Kid. Realizing that it could get dangerous, Lister took Rimmer's hand and pulled him to the back rooms. 

Todhunter had hired extra muscle to handle the additional crowds, but Lister felt better once they were at their dressing tables. When he looked to Rimmer, he was smirking. "What?" he asked, starting to feel the drag from adrenaline crash. 

"You just grabbed my hand and dragged me to safety, Listy," Rimmer observed unnecessarily, smirk threatening to break into a full grin. 

He didn't know what was so funny about that. "So?" Lister snapped, rubbing at his temple. He could feel the start of a headache and knew he needed to eat something fast; his blood sugar must be tanking after the strenuous activity of the past two hours. He groaned as he felt strong hands knead at his shoulders, feeling the tension start to ease.

"My big, strong hero," Rimmer said in a sing-song voice filled with teasing mirth. 

"Shut it, you git," Lister remarked in a friendly tone, letting his head fall forward as Rimmer's fingers worked their magic. When they left his skin, he groaned his disappointment. "I wasn't done with you yet," Lister called, then startled as an orange juice was pushed into his hand. 

He looked up at Rimmer's stern glare. "Drink that while I ask Hol to get us something to eat from the kitchen. We both need to refuel before the finale." 

Lister had forgotten they had a big number to close out the night. "Smeg," he hissed as he twisted the top off the bottle and took a big gulp. 

It was several minutes before Hollister brought them back a stack of sandwiches. Lister spent the time counting out his tips – 345 dollarpounds, with Rimmer just ten dollarpounds more. 

"At least they seemed to like us equally," Rimmer mused as he smoothed out each bill and arranged them in like-denomination stacks, all facing the same way.

Lister wasn't one to fawn over his tips, but smeg, one dance had brought that in? "Do you think it was because of The Riviera Kid?" he asked, drawing a confused frown from Rimmer. "The tips, man. If we'd done our routine tomorrow night, or last week, would we have gotten the same reaction?" 

Rimmer eyed the neat stacks before him, the money still in his hand and Lister's haphazard stacks. "I don't know," he answered honestly. "But I think we should ask Frank if we can do it again." 

Lister's heart beat faster in anticipation. "You think he'd let us?" 

"He's a businessman. We were good for business tonight, we showed initiative and innovation, and," Rimmer gave a lascivious wink, "we shook some serious ass out there." 

Lister grinned as he picked up his third sandwich. "Well then, we'll talk to Frank tomorrow night, yeah?" he said, biting into the triple fried egg butty with chili sauce and chutney. 

Rimmer wrinkled his nose as Lister licked chili from the heel of his hand. "I don't know how you can stand to eat those." 

He made a show of sucking sauce off his finger, moaning around the digit. "It's all about the differences in texture and spice. It's a kick, then it cools off leaving you wanting more. Sort of like you," Lister said huskily, loving to rev Rimmer's engines. 

Despite the weariness he could see around Rimmer's eyes, his lover still gave him a heated look. "If I had any energy left at all, I'd bend you over my chair and bugger you senseless." 

Lister eyed Rimmer's chair, then his own. "What's wrong with my chair?" he asked with a petulant pout.

"Nothing," Rimmer said with a twinkle in his eye. "I'd just rather have the memory of your ass upended over mine." 

Lister smirked. "You're a sick bastard, aren't you? You're lucky I love you." 

Lister pretended not to hear Rimmer's quiet, "I know I am," feeling his face warm again. He quickly finished his sandwich and another orange juice, then went to gargle with strong mouthwash. He wanted the customers to faint from his moves and his body, not his breath. 

They had about an hour before the finale, so Lister opted to doze in his chair, renewing the energy he knew he was going to need. When the twenty minute call came, he felt much more awake. As he pulled on his costume, he admired Rimmer's arse as he bent over to pull up his g-string. 

"I'm going to make you dinner tomorrow night," he announced. 

Rimmer turned around and gave him a funny look. "Okay," he said carefully. 

He gave Rimmer a quick kiss. "In honour of our debut, and the start of a beautiful partnership." 

Rimmer's look turned sour. " _Start_ of one? I though we had one going already." 

"Ahh," Lister remarked with a wag of his finger, "This is a dancing partnership. We'll have to think of a catchy name. 'Angel and the Snowman'? 'Dirty Duo'?" 

Rimmer groaned and covered his eyes with his hand. "No; a thousand times no. Why can't we stick with our stage names? Just call it 'Ace and Sebastian'."

Lister pouted. "Why not 'Sebastian and Ace'?" 

Rimmer's cheeks pinked. "Because I always come first," he murmured. 

Lister tried – really tried – not to smirk. "Okay, Rimmer. 'Ace and Sebastian' it is. If Frank agrees." 

Petersen poked his head around the doorframe, interrupting them. "We're on in five." 

"Shit," Lister muttered, scrambling to shove his feet into his boots and locate the maintenance hat. 

Rimmer zipped up his blue jumpsuit, then reached out to adjust Lister's collar. "I think this is the most we've been covered going on stage," he remarked as they headed to the stage. 

Lister looked at the other dancers, all dressed in the same utilitarian jumpsuit, representing maintenance workers. "Yeah, but this'll give us more to reveal to the crowd." 

He took his place in line, waiting for his cue from Hollister to go on stage. It was showtime.


	6. We Are Family: The 10 Year Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set ten years after we saw our lads last, this is an update on how their lives turned out. Completely PG and a 180 turn from what the rest of the story has been. I'm sentimental, I know.

Bleary-eyed, Lister crawled back into bed, dropping to sleep immediately. When he woke, it was to the smell of bacon frying. He buried his head in the pillow, not wanting to face the world just yet, but his stomach whined its hungry protest. With a groan, he rolled over and sat up, pushing the heel of his hand into his eye. Not a moment later, Rimmer entered their bedroom with a tray of food. 

"What's this?" Lister asked stupidly as his lover settled next to him on the bed, arranging the tray across both their laps. 

"An apology and a thank you," Rimmer explained, frowning slightly. "You should have woken me, Lister; it was my turn to feed the twins last night." 

Lister sighed and wiped a hand over his face. They'd had this conversation a half dozen times, but Rimmer was a stubborn bastard when it came to sharing duties. "Rimmer, I've told you; if one of us is off rotation, then that makes it an automatic night to take care of the kids. Last night was my night off and you," he poked Rimmer's side, "were working your ass off at the club. It's only fair." Lister stopped Rimmer's protest by kissing him. "That's the end of it. You can feed them while I eat this incredible breakfast you've made." He sliced into the pancakes with vigor and stuffed an over large piece in his mouth, signaling the matter was closed. 

He didn't look at Rimmer, but he could feel the laser stare boring into the side of his head. "I've already done fed them," Rimmer announced as he cut his pancakes into neat squares. "They're sleeping off almost eight ounces each. We really should start mixing cereal with their formula like the doctor said." 

"You got Bexley to eat? All he did was fuss at me," Lister grumbled as he bit off a piece of bacon. "Smegger didn't want to sleep, either." 

He shot Rimmer a questioning look as his lover stated, "That explains why you're still in bed. It's quarter to ten, Lister." 

Lister nearly choked as he swallowed a bite whole. "What?" How had he slept so late? Rimmer was the one who didn't get in until nearly four a.m. 

Rimmer set his knife and fork down and said quietly, "I think Bexley misses his mum." 

"Hey." He turned Rimmer to look at him, mindful of the tray balanced on their laps. "Hey," he softened his tone. "It was Yvonne's choice as well as ours how to handle this. We wanted kids; she was willing to be a surrogate for us. She can see them any time she wants, but Jim and Bexley are our children, you hear me? Those are our sons out there, Arnold J. Rimmer. Yours and mine." 

He saw tears forming in Rimmer's eyes and kissed him quickly. "No 'buts', either, Rimmer. They are our sons, and we are their parents. They don't need someone with the title 'mum' when they have us." 

Rimmer let out a shaky breath. "How did I get so damn lucky to find you?" 

Straight-faced, Lister answered, "My sexual magnetism makes me irresistible." 

Rimmer burst out laughing, unable to stifle the sound and they both groaned as a child's cry came from the nursery. 

Lister sighed and made to get up, but Rimmer leaned over and kissed him, still giggling. 

"Nope, this one's my fault. I'll calm whichever one it is down while you finish your breakfast." 

Lister hummed appreciatively as Rimmer's arse wiggled at him while he crawled out of bed. "I do love you, you know." 

"Remember that the next time one of them has toxic waste in his nappy, because you're changing it, miladdo," Rimmer declared with a wicked grin as he left their bedroom. 

Lister's grin faded as he picked at the now-soggy pancakes, marveling at how far Rimmer had come in learning to cook. When Rimmer retired from stripping, they'd talked about him trying to get a job as a cook or even chef at a restaurant. That was still a few years down the road, though. Rimmer was practically in his prime, his body lean and muscular, his dance skills honed to near perfection. Even The Riviera Kid, their idol, had remarked on his last time through the club that he found their routine "acceptable" – and he'd remembered Ace's name, something that had left Rimmer glowing for days. 

They'd danced almost eleven years at the club, nine of them as a duo. Not long after their debut as Ace and Sebastian, Todhunter had made them the headlining act. Five years ago, Todhunter had offered each of them an eight percent share in the club, meaning they were now partial owners. It was how they could afford the IVR for McGruder and pay her medical expenses. 

A stripper at another club, Yvonne had a nasty fall eighteen months ago and was laid up with a shattered ankle and broken leg. The prognosis was that she'd never be able to dance again, let alone wear six-inch heels. Her stripping career was over. Lister and Rimmer had taken turns looking after her and offering encouragement, and in her gratitude, she'd agreed to their wild proposal to give birth to their children. 

Parenthood wasn’t something they went into blindly or immediately. Lister had moved into Rimmer's flat within eight months of their first date, and they'd stayed in 'newlywed' mode for years. It wasn't until Lister sprained his ankle badly enough to require bed rest that he noticed how quiet the flat was, and how lonely he got without Rimmer there. They lived and worked together, practically breathing the same air day in and day out. Being an independent sort, it disturbed him that he'd come to rely on one person for so much. He didn't want to lose himself in Rimmer, but neither could he see himself without his partner. The fact that he even thought of Rimmer as a 'partner', not just on stage but in life, showed just how far in love he'd fallen. It was scary business; love was. He'd do almost anything for Rimmer, and he knew that Rimmer felt the same way about him. But was that enough of a foundation for an entire lifetime together? He chewed on his thumb as he got lost in his thoughts, barely noticing the passage of time.

"I'm not surprised you're having doubts," Rimmer said as he sat in the chair next to Lister, who was sprawled out on the couch, foot propped up on a pillow. He hadn't even heard Rimmer come home. "You turned thirty not that long ago, and you're starting to evaluate your life. Where you've been; where you want to go." 

His mind raced with things he wanted to say, but the only question Lister could form was, "How do you know?"

Rimmer offered a small, sad smile. "I went through it when I turned thirty. We'd only been together two years, so we didn't know each other as well as I know you now. Our lives aren't so bad, but we could have so much more. We could have a family." 

His heart skipped a beat at the word 'family', but Lister stamped down on that idea right away. He couldn't hold back his snort as he drawled, "Right. Both of us coming home from a long night of stripping to wake the kid up and get him ready for school. That's believable."

Rimmer leaned forward, his expression openly eager. "Of course it is. There are plenty of strippers who have kids. How long have you known Selby? His daughter is ready to graduate high school. What about Kochanski? Her son just sign up for junior varsity football. There are options for us, if that's what you want. Is that what you want?" 

Lister chewed on the end of his lock and gave it a bit more thought. It was true that Selby had a kid, and he'd seen Kochanski around the club when her boy was younger. Their situation was different, though. They didn't have a partner outside the business who could help support the kid, and living off of tips would be a big drawback to adoption. 

It didn't occur to Lister until then that he'd all but accepted Rimmer's idea of them starting a family. "I don't know," he answered slowly, though his heart was already warming to the idea. "I don't know if that's what's bothering me, or just feeling useless sitting here with my leg propped up. I should be working, same as you." 

"You're still working on your music, aren't you?" Rimmer asked, pointedly not looking at the powered down computer in the corner. 

Lister squirmed, knowing he'd been caught out. "Haven't felt like it." He'd bought a computer from a pawn shop and downloaded some song mixing software to play around with. He discovered he enjoyed creating new songs from a mashup of others, but it hadn't gone further than their living room. He'd promised Rimmer that they could use a song he created in their next routine, but he kept delaying, saying it wasn't quite ready yet. 

"You've been feeling sorry for yourself," Rimmer diagnosed, and Lister was ashamed to realize that he was right. "Enough of that. It's only a sprain, so you're perfectly capable of hopping around the house on those crutches. Now get to work, and we'll talk more tomorrow." 

They had talked the next day, Lister feeling more like his optimistic self and actually intrigued by Rimmer's suggestion. "Are you wanting to have children, Rimmer?" he asked, though he already suspected the truth. "Is that what brought this on?" 

Rimmer dropped his gaze to his entwined fingers. "You grew up in foster homes and I divorced my parents at age 14. My older brothers alternated between ignoring me or tormenting me. I want better childhood memories, Lister. I can't recreate them for myself, but I could make a good childhood for someone else."

Lister studied him; Rimmer was unusually subdued, which meant he was deep in thought. "You don't just want to adopt a kid, though, do you? You want a kid of your own," Lister surmised on a flash of insight. His optimism waned. "That's not going to be easy, Rimmer. For one thing, neither of us can have a baby." 

Rimmer met his gaze. "No, but we can buy an egg from a donor, fertilize it, and hire a surrogate to give birth for us," he answered quietly. 

Lister sat up straighter, giving Rimmer his full, undivided attention. "You've thought about this a long time, haven't you? Why didn't you ever say anything?" 

"You were happy. We were happy," Rimmer amended, a flush darkening his cheeks. "I can't dance forever, so what happens then? I retire and take over for Frank? I don't want to own the club; I want to dance. It's all I was ever good at and it was mine; something my parents couldn't take away from me. When that's gone…having a family would give me a purpose in life." 

Lister saw the man he loved in a whole new light. He knew Rimmer had demons he battled with daily, but he'd no idea that they ran so close to the surface. "Love," he called softly, "If it means that much to you, we'll start looking into it. I don't want you to look back on our life together and have one single regret. I don't want that for me, either." 

Rimmer looked like he'd just been given Christmas, his birthday and a winning lottery ticket all at once. "You're not just saying that to make me feel better? You want a family, too?" 

Lister had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. "Come here, smegger, so I can kiss you good and proper." He happily lost himself in the kiss, feeling not just like his old self again, but an improved version of himself. 

And yet, even after their revelation that they both wanted a kid, they still talked endlessly about raising children with their lifestyle. While stripping was an acceptable occupation, it wasn't a steady form of income. With costumes, music royalties and contributing to the club's upkeep, they weren't able to save much. 

It wasn't until Lister got annoyed at the royalty fees associated with the songs he wanted to use for his mix that a flash of inspiration struck. He searched the public domain archives and created a whole new sound with samples taken from dozens of free use songs. 

After their routine with the new music debuted, the other dancers commented on his style, then started asking him to create music for them. Lister charged a moderate fee for the time spent assembling the different tracks that the dancers requested. Once word got out in the circuit that there was a mix master charging a third the price of royalties, Lister's side business, The Red Dwarf Shuffle, was born, and their savings grew. 

It took a few more years until they felt comfortable with their savings, then they struggled with finding a donor and surrogate they both liked and trusted. When Yvonne McGruder agreed to be both to them, they couldn't have been happier. Lister could still remember the first time he'd heard the twins' fluttery heartbeats during the ultrasound. It was real; it was happening. They were going to be parents. 

It was then that Rimmer came in cradling a happily gurgling Bexley and shattered Lister's introspective mood. "How can you get him to quiet down for you?" Lister groused, hiding his emotions behind his gruff words. 

Rimmer's mouth tilted up at the corners in a slight smirk. "He likes me better." 

Lister set the tray at the foot of the bed and held out his arms. Instead of handing him their son, Rimmer bent down to give him a soft kiss; he must have sensed Lister's mood. Only after Lister smiled up at Rimmer was Bexley placed in his arms. "Hey there, little guy," he murmured to his son. Bexley looked like him: tight black curly hair, dark skin, full lips. Jim was clearly Rimmer's son, with fair skin and looser, reddish curls. 

Bexley waved a fist at him and squealed. 

"You should go back to sleep, little one," Lister admonished his son in a sing-song voice. "Your brother is napping like a good boy. You're going to be cranky later on." 

Bexley didn't pay the least bit of attention to him, instead looking around with his wide, dark eyes and making interested noises. 

Lister looked up as he heard a click. Rimmer was grinning ear-to-ear, holding a camera. "Looking like a proud papa, there, Lister," Rimmer remarked with a catch to his voice. 

"Probably because I am, dad. Come sit on the bed with us," he encouraged with a smile. 

His smile turned rueful as Jim cried out at having been left alone. Rimmer shrugged half-heartedly, set the camera on the dresser and went to retrieve his son. Lister tickled Bexley under his chin and said softly, "Now look what you've gone and done; you've woken up your brother." 

Bexley cooed in answer. 

When Rimmer returned, he pressed the automatic timer on the camera on his way to sit next to Lister, holding Jim in the crook of his arm. They shared a kiss over their sons' heads, Rimmer murmuring, "Smile for the camera, Listy." 

Lister beamed as he leaned against Rimmer's head, hearing the automatic 'click' of the camera capturing their family moment. 

The End


End file.
